


Cyanoacrylate

by Blue_Jay



Series: Remove All the Pieces + Prompts [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childhood Memories, Dysfunctional Family, Fatherly Bobby Singer, Hallucifer, M/M, POV Multiple, Rape/Non-con References, References to Torture, Sam Winchester and Mental Health Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Voicemail, Weechesters, bad communication skills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 11:12:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Jay/pseuds/Blue_Jay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's never been okay. No one's ever known how to deal with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cyanoacrylate

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request (one of several from different people) based on Remove All the Pieces. You really don't need to read that to understand this. 
> 
> Also, I found this really weird because I personally, like most people, think John Winchester was a complete bastard but apparently my brain decided to give him a reason. Which also means this is formatted really, really strangely. 
> 
> Goddammit.

**0: The Chronicles of John Winchester**

A lot of adults - and fathers, specifically, he finds - seem to be under the impression that something going on in the brain is just moodiness, or some kid overreacting. But John fought in the Vietnam War, and he learned the hard, fast way that your mind isn't always your friend. Sometimes it turns on you and twists things, like dreams or thoughts or fireworks evolving into machine gun blasts on the Fourth of July. Unfortunately,  _understanding_ this is very different from knowing how to  _work_ towards fixing these problems and that isn't something he knows how to do. Or what he'd expected. Hunting isn't like war no matter what most men in the business say and his youngest son's never fought like he has but those chemicals in his brain act like he has anyway.

He tries to deal with it but it's hard and his attention's split and outside of those four years of memories, the only knowledge of childhood he has is based on his own. His real dad he remembers vaguely, his clearest memory the man giving him a kiss on his forehead late at night, promising to be back in the morning and then disappearing without a goodbye. Mom used to talk about him sweetly in the beginning, about how he'd read her old classics on nights she had trouble sleeping (he used to read to John too -  _Oliver Twist_ and  _Alice in Wonderland_ and  _Peter Pan_ was his favorite) and drink strong tea instead of coffee in the mornings. Then she married Dave two years later and he set things straight, explained in that forward way of his that all those books made leaving a wife and son on their own seem all right when in truth you should never turn your back on family. Dave made raising children as simple as this: let them fuck up on their own before learning how to fix it. Now John doesn't know any other way and that's the problem. 

With Dean, he doesn't need to worry so much. His oldest boy understands what John means even when he has trouble explaining what that is. He knows to listen the first time he's told, which can be the difference between life or death. He's much more action orientated even though he has the capability to do more than that. He's more like him, but with Mary's personality. Easier to handle. Easier to protect, to trust  _not_ to do anything stupid, whether he can help it or not.

Sammy, though...well, he's always been a little different. He has his nose buried in books nearly all the time, always questioning and challenging orders meant to keep him safe. He reminds John too much of his own father and what Dave always said about how everything Sam is interested in makes leaving seem acceptable. And he might not be around much but he still notices things when he is. Like how his youngest son has an apparent hatred for eating (he tried at first to pass it off as a bizarre love for leafy greens but as time went by he realized that probably wasn't the case) or how, after nightmares or Dean getting hurt, he stares a little to intently at the weapons he's cleaning. He'll go days without a smile, even to his brother, and "shuts down" sometimes like John's friends would during and after the war. He's one the few who managed to adjust because he had Mary to help him along, but memories and treatment from civvies hadn't made it any better. 

Now most of those guys are dead, shot in the head with their own gun. Sammy focuses more on knives. 

Going through something similar makes it harder, not easier, and he finds himself growing distant with the kid. He tells to Dean to take care of his brother long past the age Sam actually needs it and hopes to Hell his oldest boy understands why. He'll avoid making Sam clean the guns as often as he can and every time he gets injured on a hunt, John has a nagging thought in the back of his mind that makes him wonder if it was on purpose. There's a reason he overreacts when Sam makes it into Stanford, his own fear of getting a call that his son is dead coupled with a reminder of that kiss on his forehead and soft voice reading him  _Peter Pan_ , and later checks in every once in a while just to see if he’s all right. Alive. And they fight before that because what little compassion he knew faded after the demon killed Mary and his worry came out in bursts of anger instead. It's counterproductive, but it's the only way he knows. 

Then Sam is back and John finds out Yellow-Eyes did something to him and has plans to use him. The kid wasn't even one when his mother died; he doesn't blame him, but that doesn't stop Sam from up and blaming himself anyway. Dean gets a handle on him because he always does, and John just hopes he can keep doing that because if it's the demon blood that makes his son a little crazy, he might end up being manipulated eventually. 

Twenty-two years later, and John just accepts it with a dull ache. 

But suddenly Dean's dying and Yellow-Eyes is still alive and for once in his life he decides to just say fuck it. He'll leave this to his sons, avoid breaking their hearts for a little while longer because they're more important to each other than he is to either of them. He thinks that Hell will be a small price to pay if it keeps them happy. 

The price isn't small. That's okay anyway. 

 

 

**I: Dean, June 30, 1995**

Everything starts going to Hell like this: Sam turn twelve, and stops eating. 

It's a week after that first night when his brother also decided running in cheap, new shoes was an  _awesome_ idea and his feet still aren't healed. It's summer vacation so thankfully neither of them have to go to school because his feet are still bandaged and he can barely walk without looking like he's about to cry. One day Dean tries to pull the breakfast in bed thing that always seems to work in movies but Sam freaks out so bad about the idea of getting crumbs on the sheets and blankets the idea is scraped immediately. After taking care of the kid mostly by himself for so long, he's had to deal with panic attacks before but this is different. He can't quite put his finger on how or why but it just sort of it.

When Dad comes home, he practically sums it up without saying much. Dean spent the past few days trying to keep himself calm because he thought their dad was going to be mad when he found out about the shoes, but instead he just sort of takes in the situation and says maybe they'll take it easy for the next few days, go up to Bobby's for the Fourth because he basically ordered them to come over. A few weeks ago Sam got injured pretty bad on his second real hunt and Dad brushed it off like it was nothing even if it wasn't. Now he isn't even pissed at either of them. 

This scares Dean more than he wants to admit. 

 

 

**II: Dean, November 27, 1997**

So, it turns out there's something kind of wrong with him too. He's got a thing for his baby brother and is legit jealous of some freshman girl with braces. The fact that he doesn't even go to a bar and instead sits at home staring intently at the motel phone as if he can make it ring with the sheer power of his non-psychic mind only makes it worse. 

But then Sam  _does_ call and it's only eight  and when Dean picks him up, the poor kid literally cuddles with him in the car, pressed tight against his side. He mumbles that his stomach hurts, which is a shitty enough lie even without real proof, but he slips into bed with him at like one in the morning and acts even more cuddly than before. Dean tries to calm his speeding heart beat as he throws his arm around his little brother's shoulders and tucks him under his chin, trying not to press for details. Sam asks if he can skip school on Monday. Says he has a test he doesn’t want to take.

"Yeah," Dean answers, a little freaked because Sam's never asked to skip in his life. "I'll skip too. Don't feel like seeing Amanda."

Sam doesn't answer, just hugs him tight. About a half hour later Dean slips off and doesn't realize his brother is still awake. 

 

 

**III: Bobby, August 3, 1998**

When the boys were younger, Dean always caught Bobby's attention more because he was the oldest, the one John expected to learn shit without question and take care of his brother like a second parent. Sam was just the quiet one who could sit for hours in any room of the house, reading whatever he could get his hands on. Their father's a little easier on him, like he expects Dean to the teaching, whether it's because he couldn't be bothered or he thinks his son's actually equipped to do that. It isn't until the boys are sixteen and twenty that Bobby realizes maybe there's a reason behind the difference. 

He comes back in from a Hunter's Helper run to find Dean nursing the last beer, looking every bit like an exhausted father with a baby who won't sleep through the night. He puts the bags on the counter and asks what's wrong. 

Dean says, "Sam had a panic attack. I've got sleeping pills to calm him down that I hadn't used yet. They didn't work."

_If there's something wrong with your blood, is there a chance doctors won't pick up on it? Hypothetically._

Bobby isn't liking the connection. "So I'm taking it this isn't the first time?" he says, because he hadn't even known the kid had something wrong with him. Or something other than teenage hormonal mood swings, anyway.

Shaking his head, Dean answers, "Been happening since he was twelve. Seems less likely to freak out here or in the car than a motel room. He just - I mean, fuck. One goddamn nightmare set him off and I don't know. I just don't."

Hearing any Winchester spew this much personal crap takes him off guard. "What happened?" he asks. "Anything I can do to help the kid?"

"I calmed him down, got him to sleep," Dean says. "Just sucks. Woke up from a nightmare and started scratching at his arms. Kept saying something about needing to get 'it' out."

Bobby doesn't know what to make of it, so tells the boy he's making dinner. Dean asks if he can make something light so Sam will actually eat. 

As he makes the chili, he tries to figure out where his assumptions went wrong. 

 

 

**IV: Jessica, March 8, 2002**

Sam's definitely not a prude and he's straight up said he isn't a virgin, but they've been dating for three months and haven't gone the full way yet. Jess hadn't expected a college freshman as obviously fit as her boyfriend to be freaked out about the idea of taking off his clothes. By the time it finally seems like it's going to happen, she really thought nothing could surprise her. 

Jesus was she wrong. 

The most noticeable scar is actually pretty thin but long, running from a little below his pant line at his front left hip bone to the middle of his spine, twisting around the side of his body. There are others too, smaller, oddly shaped, splattered across his body. She tries not to look as terrifyingly shocked as she feels but she must not be doing it right because Sam's face pales and he quickly slips back on his shirt. Oh God, now she feels awful. 

He says he was kidnapped and doesn't want to talk about it. She tries to imagine what that must've been like but can't. Instead she just puts her hand to his face and kisses him. They go out for Japanese food. She tries to forget what happened. 

Considering that they end up finally having sex a week later, it's basically impossible. 

 

 

**V: Dean, November 30, 2005**

Mentally, Dean's put his little brother on alert before. This is the first time one of his alerts had lasted for a whole month.

It fades in an instant, though, when they're driving a stolen car back to his baby. Sam's smiling widely, still not over the fact that he's straight up terrified of flying, and when Dean finally points he's afraid of clowns, it doesn't stop. They haven't had a day like this since they left Stanford and he's always been in love (though he hates the term), kind of sort of, but this is the first time in three and a half years that it just sort of clicks. That his brother's back and alive and, maybe - as stupid as the thought is right after Sam's girlfriend died the same way as Mom - they're just freaky enough that they can pick up where they left off from that bus station four years ago. 

Later that night, Sam gives him a hug and says he's sorry for making fun of him, which is ridiculous because they do it all the time. 

Maybe for once he isn't wrong. 

 

 

**VI: Dean, February 20, 2006**

On Thursday, the Winchester brothers hunt a poltergeist in their old house. On Friday night, Sam slips under the already occupied motel bed closest to the door. Dean smiles slightly and slips an arm over his shoulders. As usual the kid clings with his whole body, all tangled limbs and pressed as close as he can manage.

Despite how fucked up and horrible the past few days were, he has his brother in his arms and everything finally slides together.

 

 

**VII: Dean, May 8, 2006**

When Sam was a kid, he was short and skinny and an easy target for monster kidnapping, but nothing's happened since he sprouted up and definitely never with anything human. Now they're in a motel room three towns over from the creepy hillbillies and Dean drags his brother into the shower. 

Sam looks at him, eyes dark green in the dull light. "We should eat after this," he says and it's a two man effort to actually get him clean. Even though Dean's injured, his wound was easy enough to patch up and he hadn't spend twenty-two hours in a cage, pulling on a pipe grated enough to destroy his hands. His brother is shaking. "I'm hungry."

It's been years -  _years_ since Dean's heard him say that. "We'll order pizza," he answers. "Don't really feel like going out." The burn might've been easy to clean and bandage, but that doesn't mean it stings any less. Cuts and bruises and cracked ribs or fingers he can deal with but fuck burns. 

His brother smiles, one corner of his mouth moving a little upwards. "You can have the pizza," he says. "I'll have my rabbit food."

"God, you are such a loser."

Sam's smile grows and he leans over, giving Dean the kiss they would've gotten to earlier if Kathleen wasn't there, followed by running injured. "Yeah," he says when they separate. "But at least I'm your loser."

So, his brother might be a complete girl and addicted to chick-flick moments, but he figures he can let it slide for once. 

 

 

**VIII: Dean, July 23, 2006**

Dad's gone. 

Dad's  _gone._

But Dean's still here when he should be dead. It doesn't take a genius to connect the dots. 

Sam's here too, tucked under the covers of a queen-sized bed. "I love you," he mumbles into the back of his neck.

They don't say I love you. They communicate that through  _are you okay_ and  _get hurt again I swear I'll fucking kill you_ and prank wars. Dean turns around, the movement awkward because Sam doesn't let go. His brother's eyes are even more puppy-like than usual. He says he loves him too and adds "Sammy" so he knows Dean means it. 

Neither of them smiles. 

That's okay. 

 

 

**IX: Dean, April 4, 2007**

"She told me what Yellow-Eyes wants from me."

Of everything Dean expected his brother to say, this is pretty far down the list. "Meg?" he asks and Sammy nods. "Fuck, what is it?"

"I don't remember the details," Sam answers, "but something about me ruling Hell. I said I wouldn't and it was weird because she just kind of stopped after I said that and started talking about how her father's a dick."

It takes him a moment to remember Meg is Yellow-Eyes' daughter. "Not surprised," he mumbles, not wanting to think about his brother ruling Hell or going down to Hell or disappearing like that  _again._ "So, what, did she just talk to you for a week or something?"

"That's about all I was awake for, yeah. Everything else just isn't there. But she talked. A lot. And, like, tried to bond or something." He makes a face and repeats, "It was weird."

Though he's pretty sure weird's an understatement, he doesn't say it. Instead he tells his brother they're getting anti-possession charms tattooed on them and Sam makes a joke about them being "serious." Dean shoves at his shoulder but smiles anyway, putting away his fear for his brother in the back of his mind to deal with later. 

 

 

**X: Dean, May 2, 2007**

Sammy dies bloody, and Dean makes a deal. 

It's that simple. 

 

 

**XI: Bobby, January 9, 2008**

Bobby always knew, in that part of his brain he tried to ignore most days, that his boys didn't always act...right. Still, he hadn't expected to find out. Or talk about it. 

"We know it's fucked," Dean tells him when he finally gets up the balls to figure out what the Hell is going on. "We don't let people know for a reason."

He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to avoid the oncoming headache. He supposes this would be a lot worse if he was surprised. But he gets it, in some sick, horrible sort of way because for a long damn time, all the boys had was each other and an absentee dad. Their relationship getting twisted somewhere along the way is almost expected. Before he can say anything, Dean adds, "We don't do anything here. Ever. And, uh, if you want us to head out -"

"I'm already used to it," he says and thinks how pathetic it is that it's true. "Keep in mind I know you, boy. It might be six sorts of crazy but you ain't exactly Mr. Subtle."

As fucked up as the situation is, the fact that he gets Dean to blush down to his ears is somewhat rewarding. "Oh," he says, clearly mortified. "Ah - yeah, I can't really think of anything."

He shakes his head and tells Dean to go check on his brother and make sure he hadn't died or whatever. Dean's relief is obvious when he gives his awkward thank you and runs upstairs. 

And Bobby knows he shouldn't just accept this but he does anyway. Life's always been a little crazy with the Winchester boys and he dully acknowledges this is far from strangest thing out there. 

 

 

**XII: Victor, February 20, 2008**

Demons are real and he's putting salt on a door next to Sam as the kid spray paints what he calls a devil's trap onto the floor. In the span of two hours, Victor's whole life has been turned around. 

The younger Winchester glances up at him, eyes barely visible through his floppy hair. He'd always thought, even during his actual investigation, that there was always something a little off about his one - his brother he can see, all smirks and pretty boy face and how often he picks up women at bars - and now he gets why. Sam's twenty-four, turning twenty-five soon, but he's just a kid. When Victor thought he was just some psychopathic murderer, he acknowledged that through a criminal point of view, that the guy made himself look all innocent to get people to trust him. But now he sees that there's nothing faked about it. That Sam's being genuine. 

The kid asks, "How're you holding up?"

"Better than I thought," he answers, "but worse than I hoped."

Sam draws a symbol, which, like all the others, is completely meaningless to Victor. He wonders how he's supposed to walk back into real life after this. "Most hunters say that if they didn't grow up with this."

"But you and Dean did." He nods. "So none of this scares you?"

"No, not really." Victor asks what does, not caring that it's technically an invasion of privacy he has no right to overstep considering the amount of shit he’s put these two through. "Clowns," Sam answers, taking him by surprise. "I have no idea why. They're just creepy. Dean's adorable, though. Scared of flying."

Demons are real and he's in a police station with Sam and Dean Winchester, two non-criminals with ridiculous phobias. 

Man, is his life strange. 

 

 

**XIII: Dean, October 4, 2008**

So, Sam's a little messed up but Dean gets nightmares of torturing souls in Hell at night, so he guesses that's about even. Or something like it, anyway. 

When he gets back to the motel room, his brother's asleep, tangled up in sheets with that space between his eyebrows creased. It's only about eleven but they pulled an all-nighter with that shifter and neither slept much the night before, so he can't really blame the kid. Even if it does mean no movie night. 

Sam wakes up, though, when he slips off his shoes, blinking until his eyes to focus in the darkness. Dean tells him to go back to sleep. 

Rubbing his eye, his brother answers, "Wasn't really sleeping. Was waiting for you to get back."

He doesn't deserve this after what he did in Hell and he feels selfish when he says, "Give me like five minutes."

He disappears into the bathroom. When he comes back out, Sam's got his laptop set up with the rented DVD slid in. "We can save it 'til tomorrow," he points out, but his brother just shakes his head and wiggles on the mattress until he gets comfortable. His hair's wet from that second shower of his, one side sticking out almost perfectly horizontal. Instead of asking if he's sure, Dean slips under the covers too and hits play. 

Halfway through, Sam falls asleep slumped against his side. 

 

 

**XIV: Castiel, April 20, 2009**

Castiel is a good soldier. He will follow orders. Supposedly, he will not doubt.

Even so, he cannot help but dislike this plan.

Sam Winchester is in a state of turmoil - any angel and most humans, presumably, could see that. Singer's panic room is the only thing keeping the human in one piece, both in a literal and spiritual sense. His mind and soul are shattering and his blood is trying to tear itself apart. Further, he has a dependency on that demon who created his addiction and enough self-hatred that he is not likely to have the strength to use what mortals call "common sense."

And yet Castiel was being ordered to release him? 

Killing Lilith is, yes, a Heavenly matter but though Castiel may be younger than his superiors, that does not make him ignorant. Something else is going on here that he is not being told. But he is a seraph, a garrison leader, and his doubts must be dispelled quickly. 

He opens the door.

 

 

**XV: Dean, May 2, 2009**

Today is Sam's twenty-sixth birthday and Dean lets him drive. It isn't until they're halfway between Jesse Turnerand their next destination that he even remembers. 

"Pull over," he says suddenly, making his brother jump and swerve. "I mean, look - there."

He points to a turn off point. There's nothing but cornfields are them for miles and no cars anywhere. The clock on the dashboard informs him it's a little past ten. The sky above them is clean, the moon just a sliver and the stars bright. Sam pulls over and Dean scrambles out. His brother asks what he's doing. 

Though he doesn't answer, Sam figures it out once he carries over a couple of warm blankets and the cooler. He asks what the occasion is, helping organize everything. 

They hop up on the hood and Dean grabs a couple of beers. "Dude, don't you ever check a calendar?"

Sam blinks, obviously confused, before pulling his cell phone out from his pocket. His face falls when he sees the date. Whatever Dean was hoping to accomplish with this dies right there. He shouldn't have said anything, let his brother figure it out on his own tomorrow morning.

"Look," he says, reaching over to pop to cap off Sam's beer, "just run with it, okay?"

His little brother doesn't look convinced but nods. They stay quiet, and watch the stars. 

 

 

**XVI: Dean, February 16, 2010**

After being lectured by  _Cas_ who he didn't even think knew  _how_ to lecture on terms of emotion, Dean finally ends up here, in Bobby's panic room with an angel and his surrogate father upstairs. Sam's a mess, covered in blood from where he scratched himself and bruises from the psychic whatever throwing him against the walls. They'd forgotten to bind him down because he'd already been in tears from the pain by the time they finally got there. Dean had offered to set them up in a motel but Sam refused, said he wanted it out of his system without hurting anyone else and didn't talk for the rest of the ride.

His brother flops, all his weight suddenly against his side. Ever since the Apocalypse started, life's been Hell with the backlash and he's tentative when he slips his arm around Sam. Immediately, he snuggles in closer and, okay, Cas probably is right because he's pretty sure his goddamn heart broke or whatever. Happy fucking Valentine’s Day, Lucifer, you son of a bitch. He kisses the top of Sam's head. 

Even though his brother's bloody and a wreck, Dean still manages to ignore the sweaty hair. They're going to get him cleaned up and some food and drink (Bobby said no alcohol, so water and ginger ale it is) inside of him and then they'll figure out a way to patch this back together. Because they're Winchesters, and that means they're stubborn enough to do it. 

 

 

**XVII: Dean, March 28, 2010**

Three days after they came back from Heaven and Dean realized angels have not stopped being dicks in the slightest as he spent hours apologizing for being an idiot, Sam suddenly breaks down. It's been twelve goddamn years and that Thanksgiving finally makes sense. 

"So you know how I've got that thing about being clean and organized and all that?" Sam asks suddenly as they drive to No Destination East. "You know, that you always make fun of me for?"

He glances to the side. His brother's not looking at him. He answers, "Kind of hard to forget when you organized your internet bookmarks alphabetically yesterday," causing a wince. Oh. He hadn't meant it to come out that way. 

"Yeah." Sam leans his elbow against the window, cradling his head in his hand. "Well, back at that...Thanksgiving, I freaked. Family didn't see, but I did. It's hard to explain but, I don't know, the place, them - it was all so  _clean_  and I was so obsessive about keeping clean too but I still felt so dirty. Like, I still remember the dirt under my nails and we'd been fighting a vengeful spirit in Nantucket the day before and I got covered in mud and right under my eye I had even more dirt 'cause it hurt to clean off with the bruise underneath and -"

"You called me." His brother nods. "Fuck. Why didn't you tell me?"

With a shrug, he says, "I'm enough of a freak, was even back then. Didn't want to make it seem -" He reaches over, grabs Sam's hand who looks at him with such a hurt expression that makes him seem eighteen all over again, standing in the rain and begging him to come along to Stanford. Dean says that it wasn't like that. "Yeah it was. There's something  _wrong -_  what're you doing?"

Dean pulls over onto the shoulder, hands shaking and he doesn't want to crash his Baby. Sam's eyes are open wounds. "Sammy, I'm not going to say you haven't screwed up a few times," he says, "but that whole clean thing? That's not your fault."

Sam leans into him, same as all those years ago and Dean's damn happy right now that they started their fucked up, codependent relationship because it doesn't feel totally weird when he wraps his arms around his little brother and just holds him for as long as they need. 

 

 

**XVIII: Bobby, May 1, 2010**

He knows he shouldn't, that he's just torturing himself more with the thought of his youngest boy martyring himself for a world where most people have no clue he exists and most of the others who do have literally been trying to hunt for the last year, but he has to ask. 

"What were you going on about out there?" he says, crossing his arms and looking at Sam who seems at a loss about what to do. 

The boy's mouth turns up into a wry smile that makes Bobby want to cringe. Both he and his brother are self-sacrificing bastards. "Azazel - before I knew who it was, obviously - used to dream walk or something, I guess. Used to tell me I was going to Hell no matter what I did, so I should work with him."

"Demons lie, kid."

With a shaky sigh, Sam answers, "Well, yeah, I guess. But then there's Meg. That night you - well, I or, I don't know,  _that night_ I recognized her instantly, like I'd seen that meatsuit before. I must've seen it somewhere and it wasn't a dream, so I'm figuring I went to Hell after Cold Oak. And when I went to Heaven...You can ask Dean about that." Then, quieter, as if more to himself than Bobby, "Not like I don't deserve it."

Besides that last bit, the reasoning is a little too sound. He reaches over, touches his unofficial adoptive son on the shoulder. He says he doesn't deserve it and never has, because it's true.

Sam just ducks his head like he thinks Bobby is just saying it to be nice. Ten years later and he's still wondering where he got everything wrong. 

 

 

**XIX: Dean, August 16, 2010**

In the end, Sam's the one he loves more than anyone or anything else, but even though it was just a weekend, Lisa is the one girl he never really could forget. 

He cleans up his act quicker than he thinks any of them thought he would and gets a job and Lisa teaches him how to cook more than pasta so he can make breakfast on weekends before bringing a smiling Ben to a game or practice or wherever. It's not Sam, and it never will be, but it's nice. Real nice. Domestic in a way he'd thought he'd hate. But he doesn't and keeps with it, even though he looks for a way to pop open the box and tries to contact Cas every other night. He tells himself this is enough, for now at least. 

And every time he gets Lisa or Ben to smile all big like that, he thinks that maybe it's true. 

 

 

**XX: Azazel's Daughter, October 18, 2011**

Even though it's completely inappropriate for a demon, Meg's thought of the Winchester boys as  _her_ humans ever since she tried to break little Sammy in Hell. So, sure, demons aren't angels so they can't see souls or anything pure or whatever like that, but one minute with Sam and his personality flip is enough send the word WRONG written in all caps straight into her head. 

And yeah, maybe she's on the run because Crowley's a dick of epic proportions and Sam failed his Battle Royale, but she doesn't  _really_ want to kill annoying, self-righteous, almost equally dickish Dean when she slips onto his lap. She's a demon, made of malice and evil and powerful enough to even end the life of an angel or two if she had the right weapon, which means she doesn't have the capability or drive to  _care_ or whatever about Thing One and Thing Two. She tries to convince herself that it's the enemy of my enemy is my friend scenario, but she doesn't lie much to herself. She's been ruined since the day Bobby Singer stabbed himself in the leg and Sam recognized her on sight. 

It's a problem she wants eradicated. But she'll deal with it after she tortures and kills Crowley, she decides. 

Kissing an Angel of a Lord takes that option completely off the table. It's not like she could ever kill Sam Winchester, even if she wanted to.

 

 

**XXI: Bobby, November 20, 2011**

Most hunters and people in general and even John too never realized that Sam and Dean are a lot more sensitive than they let on. And that's why when Dean calls him, sounding stressed but rational enough, Bobby knows the poor kid is about an inch away from losing his shit and crying. 

He says Sam had a seizure and he knows Bobby's still having a hard time dealing with everything, but can they just stay one night? He doesn't want to hole up his brother in a motel room after that.

Honestly, Bobby managed to get over his problem with the youngest Winchester a while ago, all because he was flipping through the channels and came across that  _Star Trek_ episode where Kirk splits into an evil side and good side and finally got it through his head that without a soul, a person's basically just existing on survival instincts. Real-Sam, the damaged twenty-seven-year-old with nothing but the Wall keeping his fractured sanity together, is so damn opposite that he took on the Devil and won. Damn idjits not realizing that he stowed his bullshit ages ago. He tells Dean he'll set up in the couch too, in case Sam has another seizure and can't make it upstairs. 

Dean sighs in relief and says they'll be there in about twelve hours. 

 

 

**XXII: Castiel, February 2, 2012**

Even though he knows this is all for the greater good and that he will, in fact, repair Sam completely once he's done regardless of what the three humans do, feeling the Wall be pulled is the worst thing he's felt since Raphael threw him into Heaven's prison fifteen Earth-years ago. The fact that sometimes touching the boy hurts his Grace to begin with only makes it even more unpleasant. 

Sam's mind breaks. 

He hadn't expected it to be this bad. 

 

 

**XXIII: Dean, March 12, 2012**

Sam's a quivering mess on the floor, curled up and babbling on in a language humans aren't meant to understand, all because Dean was about to give him an agreed upon haircut. He doesn’t even want to think about any possible connections with scissors that must mean. Last time his brother freaked out this bad was when they tried to have sex too soon after a flashback. 

It's difficult, but he manages not to touch him when he says, "Sammy, it's just me. I'm not going to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay? Just come back to me."

Bobby's in the doorway and stays there, beyond the point of Sam's vision. This is going to take so much alcohol to forget.

The attack goes on another fifteen minutes of alternating between silence and Enochian and all the while staring off into space before Dean gives up and grabs his brother's arm, digging into a bruise from earlier that day when Sam knocked his shoulder into the corner of one of the kitchen cabinets. He flinches and finally clues in, eyes falling into focus. 

For the first time in weeks, he suddenly breaks into tears. Bobby leaves to give them some privacy. 

 

 

**XXIV: Dean, May 8, 2012**

Bobby is dead. Sam hates his birthday and Tuesdays. 

Dean thinks he finally understands. 

 

 

**XXV: Azazel's Daughter, June 24, 2012**

Protection or not, demons are not supposed to look out for psychotic angels who went crazy because of guilt. Demons are also not supposed to be possessive over humans, or relieved that one is still alive. Which is why it kind of sucks that she's helping Sam get his stuff together so Brother Dearest can make her a fake job application. 

When he finishes and the two are stuck in the room, waiting for Dean to sign him out so she can sign in poor little amnesia Cas, he awkwardly asks, "Why're you helping us?"

She picks at her host's nails, which she now thinks of as  _her_ nails she's been in this body for so long. "Because running from the King of Hell is a lot more difficult than I make it seem," she answers, "and a crazy angel is still an angel. Enjoy your half baked sanity while you can, moose."

Sam rolls his eyes but doesn't look angry. 

The Winchesters leave three hours later. Marilynn Wakefield, her meatsuit who is not bitter and angry instead of scared after so long, would've yelled at her if she was still alive.

Meg really hates Crowley. 

 

 

**XXVI: Dean, Unknown, Unknown**

Purgatory doesn't fluctuate between night and day for Dean to measure time, but he's pretty sure it's been a while when Benny asks if he has anyone waiting for him at home. His mind immediately flashes to dimples and floppy hair. "His name's Sam," he answers. "He's my little brother. Probably looking for me right now...hope he isn't doing anything stupid."

Benny is looking at him like he expects some sort of elaborating on what he means by  _doing something stupid._  Dean figures explaining his brother got addicted to demon blood and started the Apocalypse isn't the best idea, so he keeps his mouth shut.

 

 

**XXVIII: Dean, April 28, 2013**

He's been back a month. Cas has been back four days. Sam won't stop shaking. Apparently it's a  _bad day_ but Dean hasn't seen a  _bad day_ actually this bad since before his before his brother was cured. 

Sam flinches when he reaches over to touch his hair, something that used to calm him down. "Sorry," he says quickly as Dean retracts his hand and screwed up from Purgatory or not, he's pretty sure he still might look hurt. "I just - I don't know. Guess I'm not used to people touching me, you know?"

This would be believable if even ten months apart he couldn't recognized the signs of an oncoming panic attack, which means as much as he sucks at talking things out, he has to try. He can't exactly ground his brother with touch right now. "Eyes here, Sammy," he says, getting his brother to focus on his face as he pulls over to the side of the road. This is the day after they and Cas split and he thought this was over with last night. "You gotta tell me what's going on with you. Why're you suddenly freaking out? Did I do anything?"

His brother quickly shakes his head and mumbles, "I  _hurt_ him when I touch him, plus I can't get out of my head how it felt when that djinn fucking touched me and - I don't know. Like I said, it's just a really, really bad day."

Considering the amount of shit that still bothers him, he gets it. He tells him they'll take it easy for a few days, not look for a hunt until Sam feels better again. His brother says he doesn't have to that for him, that he can take it, but Dean doesn't miss the look of blatant relief. 

 

 

**XXIX: Dean, May 3, 2013**

Sam is better for four days before the heating breaks and he has a seizure. Considering his track record with birthdays, Dean's not all that surprised he sees Lucifer again for the first time since he was medicated on the day after he turns thirty. He's not particularly surprised Benny suddenly calls for help, either.

"Water," he says, slipping the water bottle onto the end table because Sam had the seizure on an empty stomach, which only made it worse, and now he's having trouble standing. He wants to help Benny but at the same time he doesn't want to leave his brother here. Even if they aren't currently on a case, Sam's still an easy target like this. "Here's a salad and pills -"

"Dean, I can take care of myself," Sam says, managing to look like the sullen little brother at the age of  _thirty_. Dean blames the fact that he still has dimples when he smiles. "I can make it to the table to eat."

 _Fuck_ , he hasn't thought about his brother's weird OCD about food mixed with beds in a long time. "Okay," he answers, not wanting to argue and knowing he has to leave soon. This would be easier if he could bring Sam along. "Just, if you still can't or whatever, promise me you'll eat here? I'll move the bags so you can crash on the other bed. Should be able to make it there all right."

Though he still look doubtful, Sam agrees. Dean tells him to call if anything goes wrong.

Even if Sam says that's okay, he's pretty sure he's lying. 

 

 

**XXX: Dean, August 1, 2013**

Later, after Sam completes the first trial and they're back in their new home, Dean lays awake in bed for a while, watching his brother sleep. He thinks he should've known his brother wasn't going to let him face down a hellhound again, that he should've known that, whether they acknowledge it or not, they have a pretty similar view of "happy ending." His, though, is more of a wish than expectation. 

But it's more than that. Sam says he wants to complete these trials and come out alive, but Dean's been putting the kid on and off alert since before he even started hunting. He hadn't done a particularly good at job at it, either, considering his brother took a suicide jump to save the world and before that tried to off himself unsuccessfully multiple times even though Lucifer kept bringing him back. And now Sam  _really_ expects him to believe he sees a "light at the end of the tunnel?" They're both psychological wrecks but at least he keeps it together, always knows where he is and what he's doing; his brother's shattered into a million pieces because of the Devil and their best friend. 

If this is going to kill Sam, he'll just have to stop him, he decides. He's not losing his baby brother again. The rest of the world will just have to deal.

 

 

**XXXI: Meg, September 4, 2013**

It takes eight years, an Apocalypse, a crazy angel, and being tortured by Crowley before Meg finally acknowledges that she at least has some sort of  _grudging_ respect for Sam and Dean Winchester. Daddy would be  _so_ proud. 

She really isn't all that surprised to find out Sam looked for her and she thinks that says something about him - or her, maybe. He and his brother aren't idiots, no matter how slow they act sometimes, and she sees clearly that Sam would never trust a demon again. Dean never did the first place. Clarence is just as bad. But they trust  _her_ anyway. She wonders if this makes her some sort of special snowflake.

They talk about  _Wizard of Oz_ and running away to London. Even though a year ago he refused to explain about the Leviathan, now he tells her about shutting the doors on her kind without much prompting. Tells her to leave so she won’t get caught too. She hadn't even known she could be flattered until the day her angel called her a "thorny beauty" and the would-be Boy King makes it happen all over again. Maybe she'll kill Crowley and take over, kill any demon that goes with ten miles of her humans. They'd probably let her stay, Hell's Gates closed or not. 

This fantasy lasts all of five minutes because suddenly Crowley is there. The jump from ruling Home Turf to sacrificing herself for the Winchesters and Castiel, Angel of the Lord and Unicorn, isn't too much of leap. 

She finds it interesting, really, that Sam looks completely wrecked when she dies. 

 

 

**XXXII: Dean, October 14, 2013**

In his own panic over the second trial, Dean somehow managed to forget that time in Hell is accelerated and twenty four hours up here is the equivalent to probably a couple of months down there. Bodily, Sammy was in there for twenty-four hours; mentally, it was considerably longer. 

He thought getting his already-crazy brother to reconnect to the real world again would be hard, but it turns out it could've been worse; Naomi, the evil brainwashing angel, bends down to touch his forehead after Crowley disappears and Bobby's soul is where it belongs. As Sam starts breathing normally again, she says that they can trust her. By this point, Dean doesn't know what to believe. 

 

 

**XXXIII: Cas, November 26, 2013**

Cas is an angel; simply because the boys are downstairs does not mean he misses the way Sam defends him. 

He wonders if this is a human thing, this sort of unconditional forgiveness. Though for a very long time, he had no real concept of "mean" and "nice," he knows he has never been what one could consider kind to the boy. It took him perhaps longer than it should have to realize words such as "abomination" and similar were not facts by human standards, but hurtful enough to add another blot of negativity to his already fractured soul. And Dean - well, he has made many mistakes with Dean but he knows he was much clearer in a way that designated "friend" to his face rather than protection from others behind his back. He had always known Dean could be resentful and thinks he finally knows how Sam feels because lack of trust from family is, quite simply,  _devastating_ _._

He tries not to enjoy having Sam defend him because he really should be through with second chances with all he has done to the boy, but a rapidly growing human-like part of him does regardless. 

 

 

**XXXIV: Dean, November 30, 2013**

Sam is thirty, but sometimes it really is like dealing with a child because Dean needs to be careful about the way he words things or his brother possibly (at best) misunderstands and (at worst) has a mental break. When he makes the chaperone comment, he hadn't mean anything  _bad_ by it, but the medication's been a little less stable since the second trial and he could kick himself for thinking. 

Now his brother's crashed in their room, showing no signs of waking up, with Hell still open, Cas human living with them, and a shockingly accepting Prophet of the Lord currently out buying an Xbox and a couple of games. Dean spends the time searching around the internet about how to deal with whatever his brother has (it seems a lot like depression and Dr. Beaux said PTSD, but adding Lucifer in could easily make it bipolar I or schizophrenia) and calls Charlie because he has no one else to ask and is forced to acknowledge that he's way above his head with this one and should've dealt it years ago. At one point he realizes Sam's skipped two days now with the meds and phones the psychiatrist too, feeling even worse when he hears his brother will have to start all over from the beginning. 

Charlie is the biggest help in the end because those damn books went all the way through the Apocalypse and she read every single one (and though she doesn't say it, it also hits him that anyone who's ever read the series has a pretty clear picture of how Sam and Dean are, in fact, together). Dean asked if there was anything in particular that he should know about - the voicemail, Sam's panic attack during the time he was at the church or whatever and Bobby was possessed, the fact that he's basically counted every time someone's called him a freak, how Uriel up and said he was dead the moment he stopped being useful - and by the end he feels exhausted and scared and horrible. The two of them seriously need to work on their communication skills, something he's never actually thought before. It was just the way they did things; they didn't talk about. In retrospect, considering the amount of stuff going on in his brother's head, that was a really, really dumb move. 

When Sam wakes up, it's three days later. On the seventh day, they talk. 

Life gets a little easier, after that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Sorry for any typos; I'm the world's worst proofreader.


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